


Dirty Numb Angel Boy

by Jenchantress_stories



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Broken Sam Winchester, Caring Dean Winchester, Codependency, Codependent Winchesters (Supernatural), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Hurt Sam Winchester, Post-Apocalypse, Protective Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, The world is a mess, Trauma, Winchester Coping Mechanisms (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:33:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23873212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenchantress_stories/pseuds/Jenchantress_stories
Summary: After five years of apocalypse, Lucifer's back in the cage and, against all odds, Sam's back with Dean. But the time passed left the brother's broken.Dean's caring for Sam but in a post-apocalyptic world, there's only so much he can do. They are both coping somehow, but how long can they last after everything they've been through?
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> End of April 2020 - Pandemic going strong.
> 
> Sam and Dean in a post-apocalyptic world. There are many beautiful stories dealing with this subject, here's my attempt. I've never written anything that long (by choice ;) ) and I will release the chapter day by day, finishing by the end of this week.

For a moment, he was vulnerable. 

He was about to attack, positioning himself to wipe the group of people in front of him from earth's surface. Standing tall, dark clouds building up above him but something happened - a shift in his posture, a change in his facial expression, his whole character rearranging . 

And suddenly he was vulnerable, weak enough for them to hurt and restrain him. He cried out, felt the pain running through his body as they stabbed through his rib-cage while he got his arms and legs bound. The moment they gained control over him, his arrogance returned, mixed with furious eyes, cursing at everyone around him, whatever happened, it didn't last long, but nevertheless, they got him.

And Dean could swear that he saw in that very moment of vulnerability a glimpse of human in the devil's eyes. Shimmering soft and warm and yet, broken. 

A glimpse of Sam.

### 

In an act of desperation in 2010, Sam said _yes_ to Lucifer. He hoped he'd be strong enough to keep the control of his own body with the devil inside that being pumped up with demon blood will give him strength. But he lost the fight. 

It was all lost.

Five years later, the world is a massacred mess. Vast, lifeless deserts replaced vibrant cities, whole towns disappeared into thin air, leaving only small villages to raid for food and medicine. Nobody knows how many people are left because communication over a long distance is difficult. 

Everyday life is mostly improvised, everyone is just getting by, everything is scarce these days, the comfort of a modern day life is just a memory.

Lucifer brought chaos into the world, engulfed humans in misery, indulging in their suffering. Each person got their own horrible story to tell, the nasty ways the devil ended lives, tortured innocents for his own entertainment, making them beg for mercy while wearing the most arrogant smile on his face. 

Years of failed attempts to stop him have passed. Bloody fights, ancient weapons, supernatural spells, desperate acts, sacrifices from everyone. Always ending with loss and defeat. 

Now he's enchained. Lucifer himself is restrained in an old church by an endless number of ropes that are soaked in Holy Oil and belayed with some dark magic. But people can't celebrate their victory yet. No one knows how long the spell will last, how long they can keep him like that and worse, no one knows how to kill him. So far, it seems to be impossible to kill an archangel. 

Dean lives within the small community that managed to capture the devil. He helped planing this attack, helped pulling through this operation and restraining a cursing Lucifer. 

An hour later. In front of the church people are still discussing their next step. Dean retreats and quietly walks up to the devil, who's body hangs motionless from the ropes.  
No ones stops him. Dean's a well experienced hunter and even more famous for being the man who's brother was possessed by Lucifer. 

If anyone asks, Dean always emphasizes how Sam was forced to say yes, compelled to give in. In a way Sam had no other choice, but he's not as innocent as Dean tells others he was, never mentioned the last seal, the demon blood, his destiny to start the apocalypse. Nobody needs to know.

The church is quiet and dark, except for a few candles. Completely still he's hanging from the bars below the ceiling. Sam's body looks perfectly fine, just slightly bruised from the latest fight. Unlike him, he didn't age a day since Detroit. Dean can't help it - instead of Lucifer he still sees his little brother, the one he tried so hard to protect. The one he promised to keep safe come whatever. 

_”Dean Winchester... Long time no see.”_

Lucifer doesn't lift his head. Cautiously, Dean takes a step back, ready to fight again, glaring angrily at the devil.

 _”Huh... he really did it. I have to admit, I'm impressed. Your precious Sammy baby got me.”_ He lifts his head, looks at Dean, his surroundings, his attitude smug as ever.  
_”Where's Sam?”_ Dean's voice is thin. He'd never admit it but he's scared.  
_”Oh, I usually keep him close, so we can enjoy this ride together, but since he's been a naughty boy, I had to store him away, giving him some time off to think about his actions, you know.”_

Sam did it. After all these years he finally made it. It was him. To get in control of his own body probably took Sam everything even if it was just for a moment. He's so proud of him that he made it at last but also so broken about the final loss. He's about to leave when Lucifer makes him an offer:

 _”Cut me loose now and I will let you live.”_ Lucifer tries to sound nice, but fails miserably.  
_”Yeah, sure. Anything else?”_  
_”Oh, come on. First of all, you can't keep me forever and second, the majority of humanity is dead or doomed already, there's nothing left to lose.”_  
_”No.”_  
Lucifer sighs.  
_”Then you will all die. The moment your little magic trick wears of, I'll pick you apart and let you burn.”_  
Dean just stared angrily. Lucifer's probably right, but they fought so long to get here, they won't give up now.  
_”Okay, whatever. Maybe he can convince you.”_

Dean keeps staring at he devil. What is he up to? He knows he's about to perform one of his dirty tricks, but anyhow, the devil's eyes grow soft and human, there's a weak groan. Sweet, big eyes, slightly watery, slightly confused.

 _”Dean...?”_ Sam feels dizzy, hasn't been in charge of his own body in years, he can feel he's restrained, but softly moves his fingers.  
_”Sam? Is that...?”_ His voice, Sam's voice, so weak and thin, but warm.  
_”Yeah, it's me...”_ He's pants, hanging with his arms up makes breathing difficult. _”I did it, Dean. It took a while, but I got him.”_ The most precious smile plays around his lips. Dean has no idea how much Sam saw or knows about Lucifer's apocalypse, but he doesn't care right now. He smiles back at his little brother.  
_”You did. I knew you would, Sammy.”_  
Sam would love to tell Dean how sorry he is for messing up, apologising for failing him. He wants him to know how much he misses him and that he'd give everything to turn back time, but he only has one shot, a very last one to make this right.

 _”Dean... the rings... they are still... pocket...”_ Sam tries to continue but starts coughing blood, he tries to scream but more and more blood comes up his throat and out of his mouth, sending him straight into agony.

Sam's in pain and Dean panics. That was Lucifer's plan, using his little brother as leverage. _”YOU BASTARD! STOP THAT!”_  
The four rings of the horseman, the door to hell's cage, they still exist. There's an actual possibility to send the devil back to hell, to end the apocalypse, to free humanity.

Sam's eyes grow cold again, his face stern. _”That's enough for today. Sammy, buddy, you're in a lot of trouble.”_ Lucifer grins, blood between his teeth.  
_”Give me my brother back!”_ Dean shouts angrily, but the devil just grins.  
_”I can still rip his insides apart. He can't work against me while we share his body, that's not good for our team spirit... oh, you got company.”_

A group of people enters the church and Dean becomes frantic. They heard what Sam said.  
_”GET THOSE RINGS! We send the devil back to hell tonight!”_ Someone shouts and the mob starts approaching him until Dean tries to block them.  
_”You can't, please. Sam's still in there.”_ Dean's pleading; trying to stop them.  
_”He killed billions of humans! We will end this tonight!”_ Another shouts.  
_”Sorry, Dean, but you know we don't have a choice._ Another says with a genuine compassionate voice.

 _”Oh, you really want to sacrifice your saviour? How repetitive... Without Sam you'd never got me here.”_ Lucifer intervenes, mocking them. Desperate, Dean tries to hold them back, but three people hold Dean down while others walk up and search for the rings in his pockets. Deep down Dean knows they are doing the right thing, opening the cage and sending Lucifer back but talking to Sam after years – he realises how much he missed him and that the hole in his heart hurts more than anything else.

 _”Dean, you'd better stop them! You don't want Sam with me in the cage, because you know I'll torture him until eternity. Beyond your very own death! I'll cut him, burn him, skin his body, break his bones, I'll fuck him, again and again, turning him into my bitch while making him choke on his own blood....!”_ He grins, but there's nothing Dean can do. He cries and begs, but they don't stop until they got what they were looking for.

_”No, please, SAMMY!_

_”GOT IT!”_ Someone throws the four connected rings just below Lucifer's body. The ground opens and a seemingly neverending abyss appears. They start cutting the ropes and for a last time, Lucifer gives Sam control over his body.

 _”Dean...”_ Sam groans.  
_”Sammy...?_  
_”It's okay, Dean, it'll be ...”_ He whispers with a tired smile, before he suddenly screams again in pain, tears of blood streaming down his face. 

_”NO! SAMMY...!_

But Sam can't answer, he's choking, struggling to breath, his body convulsing due to the horrendous pain, blood running out of his mouth and nose. People stare at the scenario with fear and amazement. Dean fights but they keep him down while they're finally cut the last rope. 

Everyone's quiet, expectant, listening to Sam's choking noises and the whirling sound from the void when the last rope's cut. Sam and Lucifer fall into darkness, gone by the moment the void closes again. Silence spreads.

No one can believe it finally happened. Looking at each other the mob starts to smile, to cheer and hug each other. Everyone is happy for the first time in a long time, everyone feels like celebrating, the weight of the world lifted from their shoulders.  
Few people apologise to Dean, feeling sorry for his loss, before joining the singing crowd.

Dean feels dazed, hardly hears the people around him talking to him. Back then he promised Sam to go to Lisa by the time it's all over but she's long gone. Everyone he once cared about is gone. 

He's just sitting on the floor, staring into nothing, his body and soul going numb. When people start to spit on the spot that swallowed Lucifer, Dean leaves. The first signs of brand new day are visible at the horizon. He can't stand this. Since he has no place to go, he just grabs a few essential things, stuffing them into his bag and heads with his trusted Impala into nowhere, putting distance between himself and those who celebrate his brother's final sacrifice.

In this messed up left-over of this world, there's nothing left to do for him. No more evil to hunt, no more people to protect. The option of retiring at a beach died the moment Sam gave himself away. 

_Sam..._

Sam's not dead. That's the painful fact that haunts Dean's mind. His little brother is buried alive with the most vicious being that ever walked the earth. Compared to that death would be a bliss. 

Driving for hours without a destination, he stops the car beside a road that runs through vast wilderness formerly known as USA. 

He lies down on the front seat, physically exhausted, his heart becoming too heavy, everything deep inside of him breaks, crumbles into pieces as the day passes and night breaks. The image of Sam's bleeding face, screaming in agony before coughing blood, so much blood. Since day zero, since Lucifer took over, Dean had to function. No time for emotions. He has no idea how to deal with the sudden loss, the emptiness inside of him, the hatred. 

He gave everything and is left with nothing.

Dean embraces the darkness of the night, its cold air. He drifts in and out of dreamless sleeps. The sun rises again, warm and soft, kindly greeting the new day, the second day already of a new world, drawing shadows on the Impala's interior. He feels a distant need for water, but he can't bring himself to move, he's to busy reviewing the same thoughts again and again. Sam smiling. Sam screaming. Sam bleeding. 

Remembering his own time with Alistair, he doesn't dare to think about what Sam's going through now, go through beyond the end of time. Lucifer showed his creative torturing skills often enough over the last five years, stories of his cruelty were all over the news before he erased all kinds of media.

One option would be the gun pointing at his own head. That'll be quick and easy. But messed up as he is, he doesn't feel like he deserve this kind of mercy. 

He steps out, walks around a little, watching the clouds, kicking random stones on the ground, cursing and yelling at nothing. He gets back inside, attempting to sleep again when the sun starts setting. All night he's torn between exhaustion and rage. The first rays of the morning sun colours the landscape in a warm, golden glow, when Dean hears the sound of steps approaching the car. 

Irritated, Dean moves his head with a pain shooting through his neck from lying still too long. He's not interested in any company or conversation, but unbeknownst to him, a familiar figure is waiting two steps away from the car. Dean gets up and opens the door, but stays inside. Blinded by the sun he struggles to recognise the man in front of him.  
_”You kept your part of the deal. Reluctantly, but you did.”_ Says a calm, familiar voice.  
_”Since I had to get down to get my precious ring back, I decided to reward you and our brave hero.”_

Dean hears every single word clearly, but needs time to understand what's going on, needs a moment to realise it is Death himself talking to him. 

_”He's quite exhausted and in a bad shape, since our fallen angel didn't feel like healing him before I took him. But I assume the two of you will handle this.”_

Dean looks around. There's a weak groan coming from the backseat. Dean's heart starts racing. _”Sam...?_ His big, limp, naked body squeezed into the back of his car. Wet streaks of hair over his face. So soft and fragile. _”How...?”_ With a puzzled face he turns to Death. 

_”Again, you underestimate me, but nevermind.”_

He must be dreaming. He has lost his mind and is now hallucinating. Dean watches Death walking away, then disappearing.

### 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoy the following chapters as well. ♥


	2. Mother Nature doesn't show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds one of Bobby's huts in a forest, unaffected by the events in the world. A place to hide and recover, because there's so much Sam has to recover from.

Sam, if it really is Sam, is in a very bad condition indeed. Cuts, bruises and still fresh blood all over his naked body. For a moment, Dean just stares. Watches his chest going up and down in an uneven rhythm, hitching now and then, a quiet moaning from ongoing pain. 

Dean climbs out of the car, stepping away from it, feeling overwhelmed.

Can this really be happening? Dean expects that Lucifer takes over his vessel any second, jumping on Dean, ripping his lungs out. Or he fell asleep and will soon wake up. 

But non of that happens. Sam looks vulnerable, weak and broken, so very broken, unlike two days ago, when Lucifer was still part of him. 

The body in his back seat is actually in need of a hospital, but there are non. Bringing him to any of the doctors in the camp is impossible. Dean won't be able to explain how Sam, if it's actually Sam, got back without the devil inside of him. Dean's mind is racing. Sam needs a bed and clean water, a shelter where Dean has space to tend his wounds. 

But until then, all he can do is to cover his body with a blanket. He gently wraps the soft, worn-out fabric around his little brother's fragile shape. Sam's far too tall to lie on the back seat in a comfortable way. Next, Dean grabs the map from the glove box, looking for a place to go. _One of Bobby's huts is about nine hours away, maybe eight hours if the roads aren't too bad._

Beside all kinds of lore and stuff, these usually have clean water springs nearby, a proper fire place, cans with food and bandages. In short: everything a hunter needs. Dean's back in survival mode: _”We can make it Sammy, just hold on. I'll get you somewhere safe.”_

Dean has to concentrate hard driving on these damaged roads, leaving the well-known good roads behind. He has to be careful not to come across other people. Sam can't be seen by anyone. Looking over his shoulder to check on him, Sam looks pale and feverish, his black eye swelling visibly.

They drive for hours without coming across a single soul. The villages they pass are empty and ransacked. Dean takes a quick look into an abandoned pharmacy and finds a few more bandages, but absolutely no pain killers. Unfortunately he can't find any more food. The three diners he checks along the way are empty and he has no time to check every house.

In the late evening hours, they arrive. Well hidden in a dense forest, a little cosy hut is waiting, unaffected by the world's events. Dean stops to check the place. Maybe, just maybe they are lucky and no one cleared the place out. Leaving the headlights of the Impala on, he gets out. Cautiously he moves towards the door and knocks. _”Hello? Anybody home?”_ No answers. He tries to open the door but it's locked. Dean quickly changes that with his lock pick. 

The inside looks surprisingly cosy. As far as he can see, there's a table with chairs, a sofa at the wall, a little kitchen in the corner of the room, plus several shelves filled with books, maps and papers. Stepping inside, Dean finds a fireplace and two more doors. A gas lamp is standing on the table and Dean lights it since there's no electricity. The bathroom is a bit scarce. A toilet and a small sink beside a small shower only. The bedroom has one large bed and a small cupboard with a few spare clothes inside. 

Checking the shelf beneath the little kitchen, he finds some old cans with beans and other stuff, plus soup, coffee, tea and canister with clean water. The expiration date passed years ago, but in these days expiration dates are just numbers. _”Jackpot.”_ His eyes grew wide when he spots two full bottles of whiskey on the shelf. He picks one and takes a big sip. _”Good stuff.”_

 _”Okay, Sammy, you won't like this, but I have to get you inside. So hold on, you'll feel much better soon.”_ Carefully he drags Sam out of the car until he can carry him inside. 

Caring him, feeling his warmth radiating, his chest moving, breathing. All human. 

His face is so very pale, his skin is hot and sweaty, his bones make odd cracking noises. Sam groans weakly, Dean keeps soothing him. _”It'll be alright. I found us a cosy little place. It'll be just fine. Just hold on a little longer. Your big brother will make you feel better in no time.”_

Sam doesn't respond to Dean's words. His body is limp and far to light for his size. With the angel inside of him gone, years of not eating, drinking and whatsoever are showing on his body.  
The mattress, Dean lays him upon, is soft and adjusts to Sam's shape. Pulling the warm blanket over him, he leaves to grab all the other stuff from the car. When shutting down the Impala's lights, the gas lamp's soft glim is all they got.

Taking some of the fresh water, bandages, a washing cloth from the bathroom and some underwear, Dean has finally enough space to tend Sam's wounds. First, he gives Sam his spare boxers, because even after all these years, he feels uneasy with his brother lying there completely naked. 

Then he tries to make Sam drink a bit of water, carefully pouring it into his mouth. Lines of dried blood under his nose and split open lips are visible on his chin. With the edge of the cup he pulls down his lower lip, letting the water run into his mouth. Sam chokes, partly spitting it out, partly swallowing it. His second attempt is a bit more successful. 

Since their resources are scarce, Dean has to choose carefully which wound needs a bandage. A detailed look on Sam makes him feel sick. Dried blood lines all over his body, black and blue marks, his skin is so thin, the cracks in the bones are party visible. Most cuts are on his arms and around his collarbones, nowhere near fatal, just extremely painful. 

Dean has to sooth himself: _”Okay, Dean, this is not the time to freak out. Calm down and do your job.”_ He mumbles to himself while starting to clean the first cut on his brother's face.

While cleaning the face with a cloth, he softly traces the lines of Sam's face. Despite his eyes being closed, he looks exhausted. His skin is still soft, but has all the wrong colours. The blue-green-purple shade around one eye, deep, red bruises, his skin tone far too white. _”I got you, Sammy. We made it. We really made it.”_

Suddenly, Sam's eyelids are flickering, opening so very slightly. A hint of a smile on the corner of Sam's lips, before he falls back into his comatose state. But these handful of second fill Dean with hope. He puts a cold cloth on his forehead to reduce his fever and continues with the rest of the body.

He has no idea how long he's been sitting next to Sam, how many times he had to wring out the cloth. but the first rays of sunlight touch the room when he drops that cloth for good.  
His next step is looking for some straight, thick branches for Sam's broken bones and tying them to his body, praying to whatever that they heal somehow right. 

Finding a branch in the right size and shape isn't easy, even in a forest, but eventually Dean spots some.

A few more sips of water for Sam before Dean tries to push the two bone parts of his left shinbone into a straight line, a feeling that flips his stomach, before tying the branch on his leg. His little brother responds with a painful reaction on his face and a weak groan. Same with his right arm. 

Dean is not sure how to deal with his right hand that appears completely smashed, shining in various purple and blue shades. Three nails are missing as well. As soft as possible he straightens his fingers. The sound of the delicate bones cracking while realigning them and Sam softly whines turns Dean's stomach again, but he pushes it down, focusing on his task. _”I'm sorry Sam, I'm so sorry.”_ He breaks a cutting board into two, fixing one half beneath the right hand for support as he wraps the bandage around it. 

Dean has done everything he could so far. It's nearly noon as he sits against the wall beside Sam's bed, tired, slowly processing what happened. He lost and got back Sam before but this is different. This is so much more messy and he has no idea if he can handle this situation.

How much damage has Lucifer done to Sam? How long has he been there? Will he ever recover? It would be so much easier to grab his gun and end it now, just shooting a bullet in Sam's, then in his brain, but they didn't get that far to give up. Sam never stopped fighting, so will he. 

Dean feels beyond exhausted. He looks at Sam breathing a little more even than before. Getting up, he walks around the bed and carefully puts the blanket over Sam. Hesitating for a moment, he slips out his shoes and slips beneath the same blanket, close to his brother. He places his hand softly on his shoulder before closing his eyes, taking in this moment of peace.

### 

Dean has no idea when he has fallen asleep, but he wakes from the weak sounds of sobbing beside him. The sun's touching the horizon but still spends enough light for Dean to see everything. Sam's quietly whining and groaning, his face looks like he's suffering. _Is he in pain? Does he have a nightmare?_ Dean's not quite sure. 

He checks on Sam, feeling his temperature, looking at the bandages. Stroking his head, he talks in a soothing voice: _”Hey, Sammy. It's going to be okay. We're here and you're safe. I got you, okay?”_ Sam breathing evens and his face relaxes. It looks a little more peaceful than before, his fever has gone down a little, his face gained a hint of colour or maybe it's the soft light of the setting sun. Dean takes the cloth from his forehead, dips it cold water, squeezes it before placing it back on his forehead. Stroking it softly. 

He lights the oil lamp as the sun disappears completely. Filling the empty cup with water, he carefully lifts Sam's head a little, puts the cup's edge on his lower lip, pulling it slightly down while pouring a few drops of water in. Sam chokes, pushes them out. More drops and Sam swallows most of them. And again and again. It'll be a long way nursing Sam back to health, if that's even possible without pain killers and penicillin. 

Lifting the blanket, Dean checks on the rest of Sam's body. Even in the dim light it looks worse than he remembered. His body shines in all different colours. Blue, greenish, greyish spot, scarlet red lines, white bandages stained with deep red blood. All colours appear more vivid than earlier on. The outlines of his bones shine through his skin. His shape is only a shadow of what he used to be. Dean has to prepare some food, some good old packet chicken soup. That stuff never expires. 

### 

Sitting beside Sam while the soup cools downs, he's wondering if his little brother ever wakes up. _”Sam...? Hey, like I said, you're safe here. We got you out, the fight's over. You did it, Sammy.”_ But no reaction, just the sound of his quiet, even breath. Maybe it's better this way. 

Dean drinks his cup of soup before feeding the other one to his brother. Like the water, he partly swallows, partly spits it out, but Dean is content with more than half of it actually ended inside Sam's stomach. There's nothing left to do. He takes a few sips from the whiskey bottle. It's too dark to go outside and he doesn't want to waste too much oil from the lamps. He puts them out and slips back under the blanket, beside Sam. 

This whole situation is hard to digest and so far Dean had no time to work through the events. Sam's back. Lucifers's gone. The world's still a mess. A part of him is still unsure if this is not the devil playing tricks. But he's too tired to run again, to fight against him. 

* * *

The next day, after feeding Sam more soup, Dean reluctantly gets up to collect clean water. He grabs every container and bucket he can find and drives off, back to the bridge, hating the thought of leaving Sam alone. 

An hour later, he comes back nervous and rushing into the hut, realising that nothing has changed. Sam hadn't even moved a finger. Relieved and disappointed at the same time, he stores the water in the hut before sitting down next to Sam's bed. Outside, Mother Nature doesn't even hint at the mess out there, letting the sun shine through the trees, moving softly with the breeze while birds sing. 

Dean thoroughly checks Sam's wounds, replacing a few soaked bandages with new ones, making sure the branches are still in the right place. His right hand worries him most. There's not a single, straight finger. He hardly dares to touch it, looking so alien compared to the rest of his body. 

Sam's breathes so shallow, it's hardly audible. Maybe this is a good peaceful moment for the time to stop. A by far not perfect, but at least a peaceful ending. Dean checks Sam's forehead which is only slightly warmer than it should be.  
_”Hiya Sammy. We got your fever down a little. Chicken soup always does the job, right? … I know these are not the best conditions, but we got here, you know? You and me, we're still breathing... I just hope your not completely crippled when you wake up, can't carry you around all the time.”_ Dean chuckles about the mental image. _”Not that I wouldn't do that.”_  
He adds quietly. _”It's you and me again... after everything, after all these years... always you and me...”_

A soft movement behind Sam's eyelids. Dean stares with anticipation at his face, watches as he slowly opens his eyes, scanning the room for a few seconds without moving his head before the fall shut again. _”Sam? Sammy? Are you there?”_ Dean's heart is racing. Was this a good sign? 

Before the sun's about to set, Dean prepares two cups of chicken soup again, drinking his before feeding Sam. The cup in his right and a cloth in his left to clean Sam's spills. When his little brother gains consciousness again, they can eat a can of beans. 

The darkness of the night surrounds them. To save resources, no oil lamp is glowing. With the vanishing daylight, Dean settles beside Sam again. With the majority of humanity gone, the world became quiet. Dean rests his forehead on Sam's shoulder, putting his hand on his arm, feeling as Sam's breathing intensifies. Sam can feel someone's touching him in a kind way. Something he's not used to it.  
_”Sam? It's okay, I'm here. Nothing bad is happening to you.”_ Dean fears Sam has another nightmare.  
_”Dean...?”_ a quiet whisper.  
_”Yeah, Sam? Can you here me?”_  
_”It's so dark... Where am I?”_ Sam opens his eyes, panic rising.  
_”We're safe. I got us to a little remote place. We made it, Sammy.”_  
_”Lucifer...?_  
_”Gone, back in the Cage. And you're here with me. Everything is going to be okay._  
His breath sounds frantic, he's trying to move, but hisses in pain.  
_”Don't move yet, Sam. You need to rest a little more. Relax, I got you. Try to sleep, at least until the morning._  
_”What happened, Dean? Where am I?”_ Sam's panic intensifies, he's breathing hard. _”It hurts, Dean, please, make it stop...”_  
_”Shhh, Sam, listen, okay, you got to listen to your big brother, right? You need to recover, Sammy, you were in a battle and you came out in a bad condition, so, just stay calm, sleep a little more. I got you and you're going to be fine.”_ Dean places his hand on Sam's chest while softly speaking into his ear.

Sam's body slumps back into the mattress and a few seconds later, he breathes softly again. It is no surprise that his brother's in pain, but hearing it from him hurts Dean. Sam's suffering and there's nothing he can do about it. 

When Dean wakes up, he finds Sam awake, staring at the ceiling. Without looking at his brother, Sam starts talking.  
_”What happened?”_ Dean is glad to hear Sam talking, but also unsure on what to tell. In his fragile state of mind, he's afraid in trigger something.  
_”We send Lucifer back to the Cage and Death got you back here.”_  
Sam nods, breathing heavily as he's trying to gain any useful information from his memory without remembering the horrible moments.  
_”How do you feel?_ Dean asks.  
_”Everything hurts. I tried to lift my head to look around, to look at you, but my body's just... What happened to me, Dean?_  
Dean sits up, bringing his own face into Sam's view. _”That's a long story. How about some food first?”_

Sam was surprised how much older Dean appeared now. He has no idea how many years passed, but they must have been tough on his older brother. With his help, Sam managed to sit in bed while Dean quickly prepared a can of beans. Checking his own body, Sam's not surprised he feels so miserable. Part of him would like to know what happened but another part of him is scared what he will find if he starts digging for memories. 

Together, they eat the beans, Dean tells about the place they are currently at. Beyond that, they don't talk much. It's odd being reunited after so long and both are not quite sure what to talk about. They do want to know what the other one has been through the past years but are not quite able to put it into words. 

Sam's stays in bed and looks outside. The forest is very quiet, only a few birds sing. While his body is in constant pain, his head feels numb. It's like his brain is one big, fluffy cloud. 

Dean cleans Sam's wounds again while the younger one gives feedback where it hurts most. He can hardly move the fingers on his crippled right hand. Despite Dean's attempt they look all uneven while the skin shows a whole variety with colour. _”I'll pick you apart...”_ Lucifer hissed when pulling the first nail out. _”Piece by piece...”_ During the second nail. _”...by piece”_ The third nail. He watches Lucifer's hand grabbing his little finger. 

_”Sam? Sammy!? Hey, listen! Sam!”_ Dean shouts, shaking his shoulders carefully. Sam didn't realise that his eyes got wide, his breathing intensified. He looks in Dean's worried face.  
_”Man, what happened? What was that?”_  
_”Sorry, I just...”_  
_”It's okay, it's okay... Just don't do that again, Sammy. Scaring me like that. Of course, I'm all ears if you want to tell me something, don't hesitate.”_  
Dean keeps talking to Sam, asking how he's feeling, if the bed 's comfortable and other stuff to ensure his mind stays _here_. 

As soon as the light of the day disappears, Dean settles next to Sam in their bed. This time, Dean doesn't reach out for Sam, just lies still. Sam listens to the silence, feeling that both are struggling to fall asleep. But no words are said. 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is where the "slow burn" kind of started, which wasn't easy for me to write. I can only hope at least a few of you liked it and will stay with me. 
> 
> Thank you. ♥


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brother's struggle with Sam's memories and the way they affect him.

Dean has no idea how much time passed, but it's still dark as he hears Sam mumbling in his sleep, begging _no, no, please, don't..._ He can feel his brother flinching, hissing his breath. Sam remembers the people becoming lunatic, attacking each other, mangled each other when the Croatoan infected them. Lucifer loved to erase the population of small, upper-class areas like this, watching ordinary people killing their neighbours, partners and children.

Dean soothes him, softly placing his hand on Sam's chest. _”Sammy, it's over, you're safe.”_ Sam's voice becomes frantic. _”No, stop it, please, stop, just stop, please...”_  
Dean raises his voice a little.  
_”Sammy, I'm here. You're safe, it's just a bad dream, it's all good.”_

 _”Dean...?”_ For a moment, Sam's surprised to hear Dean's voice.  
_”Yeah, I'm here. You're here with me. We're safe.”_  
Sam puts his left hand onto Dean's, still slightly shivering.  
_”You remember stuff, don't you?”_  
Sam doesn't answer, just squeezes his hand a bit. Random memories keep creeping up in his mind and he has nothing to distract himself.  
_”It's okay, Sammy. You saved us. You ended this and saved everyone.”_  
_”Not everyone.”_  
There's a long pause before Sam continues and Dean can feel him becoming tense, squeezing his hand a little more. He knows his little brother is contemplating if he should tell more, so Dean stays quiet, waiting for his decision. 

_”He made me watch, Dean. He made me watch when people died on my hands...”_ His voice is shivering now, his breath hitching while clutching his brother's hand.  
_”How long? How long has he been...?_  
Dean swallows. He's not sure if he should tell the truth, if Sam is able to handle it now.  
_”Dean, what year is it?_  
_”Let's not talk about it now, okay. I'll give you all the information and whatever you need to know, but now let's just sleep.”_  
_”Dean...”_  
_”Please, Sammy. You need to rest.”_  
_”Just tell me how long.”_  
But Dean gets up and leaves the room to avoid the answers that Sam's desperately looking for. He empties the first bottle of whiskey, then he settles on the sofa for the rest of the night.

### 

The next morning Dean feels a little lost. He is able to handle the cuts and bruises, but has no idea how to help Sam's messed up head. It is really difficult to judge his state of mind, but his silent, apathetic attitude and his nightmares are hinting that he's not doing well. 

He prepares himself to be confronted with the same questions as last night as he walks into the bedroom. Sam's eyes are open but staring into emptiness. His whole body tense, trembling, his breath is hitching. It's like he's trying to move but is unable to, like he's trapped in his own body. 

_”Sam?! Hey, listen, Sam, wake up! Come on now, it's okay, I'm here.”_  
But there's no change in his eyes. Whatever he's seeing, he still sees it.  
Caught in a wave of memories: the humans that begged for mercy, mothers who sacrifices themselves to protect their children, the wounded who were unable to run. They were all screaming hysterically when they watched their loved one's neck's snap, when they got locked inside a burning house, locked into empty rooms to starve.  
_”You got to wake up, Sam. It's just a dream, for fuck's sake, wake up!”_  
Dean wants to slap him out of it or shake him harder, but he doesn't dare. There's a tear running down Sam's face while he's hyperventilating, but he's still caught in this vision. And Dean starts to panic.  
There were children, toddlers, but all humans were the same to Lucifer. Those little boys and girls who didn't understand what's going on...  
His whole body clenches up in attempts to move and Dean feels sick seeing him like this.

 _”SAM! I'm here, you know, we are both right here! PLEASE, YOU GOT TO...!”_  
Change of plan. Dean kneels down, placing one hand on Sam's chest and starts whispering softly into his brother's ear: _”You are here with me, Sammy. We got you out, Lucifer's gone. You and me, we are both save...”_  
Sam's breath evens out, the tension drops from his body.  
_”Sam...? You're with me?”_  
_”Yeah... think so... sorry...”_  
_”There's nothing to be sorry for. I'm right here for you, okay?”_  
_”Yeah...”_

That day, Dean left their shelter to catch something else to eat. Sam needs proper food to recover and Dean's so tired of those beans. He gives Sam some books about witches, so he could distract himself before starting his hunt. 

Lucifer never killed animals on purpose, at least not a big amount of them, but their number got diminished due to burned down landscapes and toxic catastrophes. 

Dean comes back with a rabbit and Sam just laughs at his brother's proud face. He's still weak and in constant pain, but this sight genuinely cheered him up. Dean helps Sam move to the sofa, so he could watch him preparing dinner.  
_”Crispy rabbit, you'll love it. Unfortunately, you can't hunt down sauce...”_ Dean is a happy chef when he fried pieces of the skinned animal in the pan.  
_”I didn't know you could prepare animals like that.”_ Sam's still amused.  
_”We all do in these days, since...”_ The mood drops. 

Dean keeps frying the meat since he doesn't want to waste it, even though he's suddenly not hungry anymore. Sam nods and looks down on his bandaged hand. 

_”So, how long?”_ Sam asks quietly.  
_”Sam...”_ Dean sighs, this time he can't just walk away.  
_”You said you'd tell me.”_  
_”What difference would it make?”_  
_”I just want to know, because I have absolutely no idea. It felt like... I really don't know.”_  
Dean hesitates, but decides to give in.  
_”Five years...”_ He whispers, but it's still loud enough for Sam to hear it. He just nods, taking the information in. 

Only the sizzling of the oil in the pan is audible. Dean heats another can of beans as a side dish before arranging it on a plate. Dean watches Sam taking his first bite of rabbit meat.  
_”It tastes good.”_ Sam says, genuinely surprised by the result. Dean's relieved and smiles. 

They finish and Dean helps Sam to the bathroom, then to bed.  
_”You are still all skin and bones. I got to catch something bigger next time.”_ Dean tries to distract from the heavy silence while he tucks Sam in.  
_”Thank you.”_ Sam whispers.  
_”For what?”_  
_”For taking care of me... you must have been through a lot.”_

Dean chuckled. Years of running and hiding, leaving everything behind, losing people. Spending long winter nights freezing and starving. Unable to trust anyone, because they might be after your possessions.  
_”Yeah, it kind of was, but...”_  
_”But?”_  
_”Missed you, Sammy. Knowing you are out there, somewhere. I'm just so glad to got you back here with me.”_  
_”Yeah, me too... I'm just...”_  
_”We both knew the risk. We only had that one shot. I beat myself up about that the last five years, so you don't have to.”_ Dean tries to sound like he's joking, but they both know it's not true. _”It won't make a change now, anyway.”_ He adds.

 _”He was about to kill you.”_ Sam continues with a low voice after minutes of silence. _”He saw the weapon you got, he knew it could hurt him. Again, he made me watch. He wanted to hurt you, Dean, to torture you, give you a slow, painful death. I saw the ideas he had. I couldn't let that happen. I was so afraid, but I had to protect you... The moment that spear cut into my skin... it was so painful and such a bliss...”_  
Dean didn't know what to say, so he pushed himself close to his brother, hand on his chest, where Sam put his own upon it.  
_”I always knew you could do it, Sammy.”_

The night takes them in as they peacefully fall asleep before the next nightmare hits.  
This time it starts with mewling, whimpering. Sam's breath starts to hitch. Dean wakes up and tries to sooth him by whispering into his ear again. The same mantra he used the last days: _It's okay, Sammy. We are here. You are safe..._

But Sam starts hyperventilating again, desperately trying to catch some air. 

When Sam crashed into the cage, Lucifer didn't immediately leave his body. The devil was furious about his defeat, therefore he stayed inside, twisting Sam's organs, ripping everything inside apart. His vessel was choking on blood, suffocating, watching his own bones break through his skin. Sam had no chance to expel him from his body because he kept him constantly screaming, constantly paralysed in pain. 

When Dean puts one hand on his chest and the other in his hair, things escalate. Sam screams on the top of his lungs, something's haunting him, inflicting pain on his body. He starts to thrash, all limps kicking and waving aimlessly in the darkness.

At some point Lucifer left his body, but the random acts of pure violence continued. Sam was nothing but a punching bag. In an interval of minutes Sam got punched and kicked to a pulp before Lucifer fixed him, just to do it again and again and again. The mercy of death was never an option. 

Dean can't see anything, but tries to hold him down, getting slapped in the face in an attempt to catch Sam's arms. _”SAM! SAM! Calm down, please! You got to snap out of it! Sam!”_  
Before Dean can get Sam under control, his little brother pushes himself away from him, enough to slip from the bed, his whole body crashing to the floor, head audibly hitting the night stand.

Silence.

Dean's stomach turns around, frantically he's reaching for the oil lamp, his shivering fingers nearly unable to comply. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ A continuous loop inside his head. 

With the dim light spreads in the room, Dean finds Sam crippled on the floor, but still breathing. His face is covered with pearls of sweat, his facial expression still uneasy. Walking around the bed, he cautiously lifted Sam back up. _”You stupid son of a bitch. I just pulled you from the edge, the last thing you body needs is some kamikaze action.”_ This time he settles him a bit more in the middle of the bed. Dean doesn't need much space, but he needs his brother to recover. 

Beside a bleeding cut on his head there are no new visible damages. Sam's physical appearance has improved slightly over the last days, but there's still so much he needs. A proper plaster cast, pain killers, vitamins and far more food. He saw too many people die from dirty cuts, too many people that didn't recover because something was missing, too many succumb to madness because they couldn't handle the situation.

Dean feels close to that. All those years he kept his shit together, but this is beyond him. Patching up wounds is one thing, but how does someone recover from possession? He is kneeling beside the bed when the tears start to fall. _”This is too much, Sammy. I fighting so hard here. I know you do too, but...”_ Dean rests his head on the mattress, feeling utterly overwhelmed. But then he feels a hand on his head, gentle finger combing through his hair.

This simple motion has an immediate effect on him, soothing his mind and body. It's not all lost.

### 

The days passed. Sam makes small steps of improvement. A few bandages became unnecessary. But for the night, Dean started to tie Sam down, so he could move around when his nightmares captured him. Unfortunately, these setting didn't stop him from crying or screaming. If anything, they might enforce the trauma, finding himself unable to move. 

During the day, Dean tells Sam about life on earth and how he passed the time, trying to tell the funny events. _”That guy had absolutely no idea about life. Since the day he was born his dad spoiled him and when he ran out of food and had to step out of his world... These kind of dudes were hilarious! 'Ew, there's a rat.' 'what is a screwdriver?' ”_

Whenever Sam smiled, it gave Dean hope for a happy ending. But often enough, reality crashed in.  
Sam used to be able to read several books in a row, skipping two nights of sleep to do research for John and his homework for school. Now he closes his eyes after two pages.

Those flashbacks are coming more frequently now. Not only at night, but when Sam was alone in the bedroom while Dean is cooking or out hunting. 

But worse than that was Sam zooming out in the middle of conversations, his eyes losing focus, his body starting to tremble, his breath hitching. The sooner Dean intervened, the higher the chance of getting Sam out of it unharmed. A few seconds too late, Sam's arms and legs would convulse, he'd be hyperventilating, sometimes screaming until his voice was hoarse, sometimes only choked noises leave his throat. If that line was crossed, the only thing Dean could do was wait those long minutes before his brother would collapse in exhaustion. 

_”I'm just too tired to fight them.”_ Sam apologises one night. _”Those memories, there are too many. Lucifer wanted me to see it all. How 'we' were ruling the world. How 'we' could take revenge on everyone.”_ Sam feels crushed by everything he has seen.  
_”They were all screaming, Dean, they were all screaming...”_  
_”Shh, it's over now. Everyone's save. We're safe now.”_ Dean snuggles up to Sam, who lies tight down on the bed. Feeling the other ones warm body calms both of them. 

Dean remembers the images on TV that were circulating in the first months. The ever rising number of deaths all around the world. All ages... Crushed, burned, starved, ripped apart... Sometimes live on camera. Dean wonders how Sam can keep his shit together most of the time.

### 

The next days Dean kept dozing off, sleeping whenever Sam was quiet. The younger one looked at him, feeling happy about every hour of rest he gets, feeling sad knowing why Dean's exhausted. He can't hide his night terrors, his flashbacks that suck him into a paralysing state. His right hand hurts so bad but he doesn't dare telling Dean just how bad it is. 

He looks outside. It's raining. The sweet melody of raindrops landing on the roof lift the silence of the room. 

Sam just feels so weak and it annoys him.  
But still, he said yes back then, bringing on the apocalypse. Michael was gone a few weeks after Detroit. With his death all hell broke loose and Lucifer indulged in the suffering of people. The images, their screams of horror... this will forever haunt him.  
And now Dean's sacrificing all his energies on helping him recover. He really doesn't deserve that. 

Dean's gun. Sam was considering it. Dean would be finally free, no more apocalyptic battles, no unnecessary burden. But he can't let his brother down like that. Sneaking into afterlife without him. Some sick twist of destiny left him alive to suffer underneath his memories. Fair enough.

Another flashback is about to happen, Sam can feel it slowly creeping up from the back of his mind. He nudges his brother: _”Dean? Dean...?”_  
_”mmh...? You alright?”_  
_”It's happening... Dean, it's happening again.”_ The fingers of his left hand twist themselves into the fabric of the blanket, frantically trying to cling unto reality.  
Dean's up in a second, wrapping his arms around him. _”Shhh, stay with me, Sammy. We're here, look around you, we are here. I'm here.”_

It's working for a moment. Sam takes in a deep breath, calming himself, until he suddenly can't breath anymore.  
_”Sam? SAM?! What's going on? Talk to me!”_  
But Sam can't see him, doesn't focus his eyes on Dean, but desperately tries to get something off his throat, the nails of his left hand leaving red marks.  
_”SAM! You got to come back to me! Listen here, please, Sam...”_  
Dean watches in horror, Sam's unable to draw air into his lungs, his legs twitch, his arms cramp before his movements soften, then he blacks out, body going limp due to the lack of oxygen.  
He cups his little brother's face, he's breathing again. He pulls him close, settling Sam's head unto his chest, stroking his hair.  
_”We're here. We are going to make it, Sammy.”_

Using the last hour of sunlight, Dean leaves the bed to make dinner. He opens the cupboard and realises that there's only one can of Mac'n'Cheese left plus two more bags with chicken soup. _”Fuck.”_ He searches all the shelves, every corner to find some more, but there's nothing. 

_”Awesome. Just awesome.”_ Dean mumbled to himself. Of course he could try to hunt everyday, but there are not that many animals around. He got lucky with the rabbit three times out of five attempts. Therefore he has two options now. Tying Sam to the bed and leave to find some abandoned kitchen supplies. A trip like that would take at least a day and he's not sure if he can leave his brother alone for this long.  
Option number two sees the two of them on the road, but with his flashbacks, him screaming and convulsing inside the car... 

Both ideas suck. He walks to the bedroom, telling Sam about the situation.  
_”There's hardly any civilisation nearby, I'd be gone for a full day at least.”_  
A day or longer tied up to the bed means a day without trips to the bathroom.

 _”What's so bad about option number two?”_ Sam asks. Dean gets up and steps away.  
_”Everything.”_ He's genuinely upset. Sam waits for him to continue.  
_”What... “_ Dean took another deep breath. _”What if the world outside triggers you? I mean, it's a fucking mess out there and I'm just terrified...”_ Sam nods, understanding Dean's worries.  
_”And what if... what if anybody finds you? I can't lose you again, but as soon as anyone sees you... I don't know...”_ For every single person in this world knows his face and to them, he's still Lucifer, he's still the devil who kills and tortures for fun. 

Sam didn't think about that yet, but Dean's right and it breaks his heart.  
_”I'll be fine for a day, Dean.”_

They decide to try option one first. It was chicken soup for dinner, so they could have the more filling Mac'n'Cheese tomorrow.

### 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU so much for reading or keep coming back to read this chapter! ♥ Big hugs to you.
> 
> Fun fact: I wanted to go out for a supply run, but decided to upload this chapter first. Thanks to that, I was at home when my delivery arrived. :D Fan fiction for the win!  
> Plus, because of your comments or kudos, I felt like I had to upload this before leaving, so another big THANK YOU to you. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchester's luck was always rather thin until it runs out eventually.

The night wasn't promising for the day's schedule. Twice Sam started screaming and clutching, squirming against the restrains that keep him safe in bed. Still, when the first rays of sunlight hit the room, Dean got up, prepared the last can of solid food and headed towards a promising residential area, with another one nearby if the first one is a bust. 

Sam listens to the few birds singing outside. He'd love to step outside, having the sun's warmth on his skin, so soft and tender. Since he and Dean settled here, Sam experienced a lot of things that felt good. The soft fabric of the bed linen, the crisp water in the shower, Dean's soothing hand. Even the food felt great, despite not being the most delicious, but the simple relish of tasting again made Sam happy.

These were the moments that helped him most. Being present, being right here and now, being human. 

Meanwhile on the road, Dean feels uneasy about Sam being alone. He left him a thick branch as a crutch, so he can go to the toilet on his own, or settle on the sofa for a change. That's also the reason why he didn't tie him up. Plus, in case Dean doesn't return, he can get away on his own and won't starve slowly in the bedroom. 

Arriving at the first few houses, Dean parks the car. He has to be cautious. There are not many people left on earth, but those who managed to survive are tough. In the first house he enters, he finds a skeleton on the ground, who probably was an old lady, judging by her flowery dress. Cupboards were empty, no pills left in the bathroom. But Dean got lucky in the garage, since the car in there still has fuel. Using a tube and a canister, this fuel is now his. Plus he removed the car's battery to have one for back up. 

Searching through several houses, he mostly stumbled upon human leftovers. _”Someone was very determined to ransack these places.”_ He found a few more cars with fuel, but not much more food. A highlight is definitely the two bags of rice and some chocolate, that was hidden in a kids' room. Dean also found some painkillers and half a bottle of rum in an office. _That dude definitely had a problem._ But even after hours of searching, he gained food for about ten days only. 

Dean hoped to stay another month at least, to nurse Sam back to strength properly. But ten days are a start.

### 

Sam's morning started peaceful as he enjoyed the sunlight. He'd love to be a little more useful, wished he could at least sweep the floor or do the dishes, but Dean didn't work so hard so Sam can throw his progress away by stumble to the ground. The bed was the safest place for him right now.

Sitting upright and with his eyes closed, Sam relaxed until it hit him: _”No, don't do that! Leave them alone, please! They are hurt, just leave them! Stop that! Just stop!”_ He fought so hard but couldn't even move a finger. Sometimes, Lucifer stood still. Completely still while people suffered under his hand. Sam desperately tried to move, but couldn't. Not even a twitch. Lucifer was completely calm while Sam raged inside him helplessly. 

When Sam wakes up again, he finds himself on Dean's cushion. His whole body hurts, therefore he assumes he has been seizing again. This is utterly frustrating for him. Even when everything's alright, when he feels fine like honestly from the bottom of his heart fine, these memories claim him, pull him down so far Dean can't reach him anymore. 

Dean arrived at the little hut in the late evening. Seeing no light glowing, he hoped Sam was asleep already, but his worst expectation came true when he found Sam on the floor beside the bed. He lights up the oil lamp to check on him, realising he has ripped his shirt on the front, showing scratch marks all over his chest. There's dried blood and skin under his brother's finger nails. 

Taking a deep breath, he tucked him in again before adding the ropes, so he won't fall out of bed at night. He left everything inside the car but the bottle of rum, granting himself a small glass before joining Sam for the night.

### 

More days pass. It was getting warm outside and Dean re-arranged the furniture so Sam could sit by the open window. Sam's face touched by the warm sunlight, the wind blowing through his hair. _”That's the happy ending we deserve.”_ Dean thinks to himself. But the major part of their reality was crushing. They both got more and more exhausted due the lack of restful sleep. Adding to his seizures, Sam is hurting himself trying to _stop him_ when he's drowning in memories. One evening, Sam screamed frantically and nearly rammed the fork into his abdomen if it wasn't for Dean. 

_”Do you think these flashbacks will ever stop?”_ Sam asks one night with a hoarse voice while they lay in darkness.  
_”Yeah, sure.”_ Dean answers, but of course he doesn't know and doesn't have high hopes right now.  
_”I'm just so tired of this. And I know you are tired too.”_  
_”Life has been easier, but together, we'll handle this. You and me, Sammy.”_  
_”Against the world?”_ Sam adds with a hint of sarcasm.  
_”Exactly.”_ With an audible grin.  
A small pause before Dean continues.  
_”And your body is making progress.”_  
The bruises disappeared and the cuts turned into pale scars, but his leg's still broken and his right hand is more a useless decoration on his body. His whole physical appears is just a shadow of his former self.  
_”I'm so grateful for those painkillers you found...”_  
_”Yeah, I saw that. How's your leg and your hand? Do you think they'll heal?”_  
_”I don't know. I don't dare to put pressure on my left leg yet and my hand... still hurts so bad sometimes, I can hardly move it.”_  
Dean swallows. Cuts and bruises were never a big deal, but they always went to a hospital when they suspected a single bone broken.  
_”Sorry...”_  
_”You did everything you could, Dean. You nursed me back to consciousness, I'm here breathing thanks to you.”_  
_”Are you really grateful for that?”_ Dean's voice suddenly gloomy. Sam doesn't answer immediately.  
_”Don't know... it's kind of what we do – pulling the other one back from the edge.”_  
_”Yeah, see where it got us...”_ Dean whispers. 

They caught some hours of sleep before another nightmare ended the darkness' silence.

### 

Their little amount of luck ran out the next morning, when the gas cooker in the kitchen refused to heat their breakfast. _”Fuck this shit”_ Dean cursed and light up a fire in the hearse, delaying their first meal of the day for another hour. 

A late breakfast was just the first of many mishaps that day. From a bird that pooed on Dean's precious Impala to the tower of dishes in the sink that slipped down, breaking most cups and plates, which honestly felt a bit like a cheap comedy film. 

Dozing off together in the late afternoon, Dean wakes up when it's already dark. He tiptoes to the toilet but in vain. When he enters the bedroom again, Sam mumbles: _”I need to go too.”_ Dean gets one oil lamp to light the way.  
_”Dean...?!”_  
Sam's in distress. _”Dean!”_  
_”Fuck.”_ Dean has been through this so often now, but still can't get used to it.  
_”Lie back down!”_ He demands as he sees Sam sitting on the edge of their bed, but his body is not reacting. Placing the lamp on the night stand beside Sam, Dean uses his hands and voice to sooth and protect him. 

Back down in the cage, Lucifer weaved Sam's limbs between the iron bars, breaking each bone several times, dislocating the elbow. First the left arm, then the right one. _”This is where you got us. It's your very own fault, Sammy. This is all on you.”_

Sam's screaming, waving his arms around frantic and before Dean can control them, he smashes the oil lamp to the ground. 

The wodden floor catches fire instantly. 

_”Shit! No no no no!”_ His brother is still caught in his flashback, kicking and slapping when Dean drags him outside, dropping him unto the soft forest ground. 

He heads back inside, trying to save something, but the fire got it easy in an all wooden hut, immediately claiming the bedroom, working its way to the rest. Dean can only grab the rest of the supplies before it becomes too hot to bear.  
By the time he gets out again Sam was motionless beside their car, panting but otherwise quiet. With the food, a canister of water and Sam in the Impala, Dean drives away, not risking their car catching fire as well. 

Before he hits the main road, Dean stops. The glow of the burning hut is still visible in the distance. _Staying there forever would have been too good to be true._ He has no blanket or spare clothes to make the back seat more comfortable. Worse, he has no place to go. At least nothing nearby. Dean knows there are more huts like this, but as far as he remembers, the next one is about a two days drive away.

He worries most about them being found. They do have quite some facial hair by now, but he doubts it's enough to be incognito. Sitting in front of the headlights to read the map, Dean works out a route to take, avoiding a camp that is known to him. But with the apocalypse' end people might be everywhere. 

An hours passes before Sam wakes up, asking about what happened.  
_”The oil lamp fell down. The whole place caught fire. We just got out. I was able to save some food for the next days.”_  
_”But how did the oil lamp fell down? How did that happen?”_  
_”I suppose I accidentally knocked it over. I fucked up... I'm sorry, Sam.”_  
_”You...?_ Sam couldn't shake the feeling that his brother was lying. It was probably his own fault, but Dean doesn't dare to tell. 

_”Where are we driving?”_  
_”There's another hut like this, but it's a two-day-drive, so try to get comfy.”_ Finding a cosy spot inside the well-known Impala isn't difficult for Sam. Like Dean, he knows this car by heart.  
They are glad when the first signs of the new day touch the horizon. The golden glow of the morning sun on the neverending landscape. After all the destruction and madness Sam forgot how beautiful the world can be:  
_”Look at that, Dean.”_  
_”What?”_  
_”The trees, the sunlight, the mountains in the back... I forgot about that.”_  
_”Yeah, it's pretty, I agree.”_  
_”Maybe it's not too bad to be back on the road again.”_  
_”I think it's too early to judge that.”_  
_”Yeah, maybe...”_

But the hours were actually peaceful. They didn't meet anyone, Sam had no flashbacks. Dean checked a few houses and picked up some blankets and cushions for them, but the food and medicine were already gone. 

When Dean spotted an old barbecue in some backyard, he used it to heat up a can of soup. He soon regretted this decision however, since he suddenly and desperately longed to put some brisket or patties on the grillage.  
_”How long do you think it takes until we can buy some real piece of meat?”_ Dean asks back in the car.  
_”I don't know. It depends how many animals are left, you might need those for breeding first. Plus the time to feed them to proper size... but in order to do that you need to grow more food. All of this doesn't consider a slaughterhouse and butcher on hand...”_  
_”Okay, I get it... smartass...”_ Sam grins and Dean loves to see his geeky little brother. But then Sam's facial expression become upset.  
_”Sorry...”_  
_”What? - Oh, no no no no no... we've been through this. This is not on you. You can't forget that, you hear me?”_  
_”Yeah...”_  
_”Thanks to YOU, I'll be able to eat burgers again soon. Maybe we should find a few pigs and raise them ourselves. Home-made bacon... What do you think? Sam?”_

But Sam is gone again. They had a whole, peaceful day but of course this wasn't over. The whole body tensing, twitching, his hands slowly approaching his throat again, pulling on the collar of his coat. Sam's choking again, eyes wide open in panic. Dean tenderly placing his hands upon his brothers, preventing from harming himself, but suddenly Sam smashes his head against the window behind him. And again. And again. Dean grabs a cushion and squeezes it behind him until Sam passes out due to the lack of oxygen. His limb body continues to breath. 

At least, the ones where he stops breathing pass quickly. Pulling the cushion away, he checks it for blood. _”Still clean...”_

Hiding the car outside that residential area, Dean uses the very same cushion to sleep.

### 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got tired of the hut and burned it down. 
> 
> One last chapter is coming tomorrow! THANK YOU to each reader who took the time reading until here! Big hugs! ♥


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No place to go, Sam and Dean are crossing the country. They laugh, they curse, they...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really nervous posting the last chapter. 
> 
> Fun fact: When I finished writing this, Spotify played "Carry on my wayward son..."

Dean found a proper crutch for Sam, who happily, even though slowly, follows Dean around on his search for anything valuable.  
_”Oh, Sammy! It's our lucky day!”_  
_”What?”_ Sam was standing on the stairs down to the basement, waiting for Dean to come up again.  
_”A six-pack of Mac'n'Cheese!”_  
_”Oh, wow.”_ Sam comments sarcastically. _”Anything else?”_

They found more cars with fuel. A pocket lamp that still worked, clothes in their size. Their trunk got considerably fuller with useful stuff. Sam was coping well with the dressed skeletons that they came across now and then. Pour souls that became the first victims when people started ransacking places.

_”Fucking hell! Sam! Sam! Check this out!”_ Dean sounds like a child on Christmas morning.  
_”What is it?”_  
_”Toilet paper! Real, actual toilet paper!”_ Sam laughs.  
_”Seriously? You know we had toilet paper in the hut.”_  
_”Yeah, but you don't know how many month I had to endure without! We'll take it with us!”_

The next house had some more stuff to eat: baked beans, pasta, rice. Officially expired in 2011, but who cares in these days. Dean takes a bag and starts carrying the stuff to the car. But neither on his way out nor in he sees or hears his little brother.

_”Shit, not again...”_ He mumbles. _”Sam?! Sam?! Where are you?”_ Dean expected him on the floor, but Sam was standing in the living room, staring to the ground.  
_”Hey, watch are you looking at? I'd appreciate if you'd answer me when I call your name, Sammy.”_ But he's not reacting. In front of his feet, neatly stacked on the floor are a bunch of newspapers. The one on top said: **Welcome to the end – Lucifer announced before releasing a deadly virus that turns humans into mindless cannibals.** Beneath the headlines is a photo of Lucifer, wearing Sam's body, smug face, arrogant posture. 

_”Sam?”_ Dean touches his arm, slowly pulling him away, but his little brother is still mute, eyes empty. Dean is baffled. Sam's not convulsing, not crashing to the floor, not screaming. He's completely silent while Dean leads him to their car, seating him in the back.  
_”Sam? Are you with me?”_  
Sam mumbles something incomprehensible  
_”Sammy? What's going on inside your head? Talk to me, please.”_ Dean takes his chin, trying to meet his eyes, but it seems that his mind is completely gone.  
_”This is on me. This is on me. This is on me...”_ Sam whispers nearly inaudible, but in a continuous loop.  
_”Hey, Sammy, I'm here. You got to snap out of it, hey, please... Sammy? You are scaring me..._  
_”This is on me. This is on me. This is on me...”_

There were many days, weeks, maybe even month where Sam felt numb inside his own body. Lucifer was raging, doing whatever he feels like, destruction, torture, death. Sam felt helpless, useless, a total failure, probably the biggest in human history. He just gave in, giving all control to Lucifer and his insanity. Too exhausted to fight, he let it all happen. 

Dean went to grab the rest of the supplies from the house before driving away, leaving the residential area behind. It's only a few more hours to said hut.  
_”This is on me. This is on me...”_ Sam keeps whispering so very quietly, while his upper body rocks back and forth in a hardly noticeable way.  
The loud roar of the Impala drowns his voice, but somehow Dean is still able to hear it. And it is driving him crazy because Sam doesn't even stop for a hot minute.  
_”This is on me. This is on me. This is on me...”_

_”Sam, you want to eat something? I think you should. Or at least drink a bit of water.”_ He stops beside the road and holds the cup in front of his face, but nothing happens. Sam's still stuck in the broken world inside his head.  
_”This is on me. This is on me. This is on me...”_  
_”Sam, please... again, it is not on you...”_  
_”This is on me. This is on me. This is on me...”_

At some point, he stops to take a piss and to check the map again. _The hut should be somewhere here. On the last junction, I went left, so it should be right there..._ When Dean finally finds the small road up to the marked place on the map, he's soon stopped by a tree lying across his path. _”Yeah, that's peachy.”_ Using the pocket light, he walks up to the end just to find some left-overs of what used-to-be a hut. A huge tree fell on it, crushing the whole thing. Crushing Dean's hope of a safe place to stay. 

Back inside the car, he turns off the engine, sitting in darkness. Sam continues his loop, never stops, who knows how far he's gone. 

_”This is on me. This is on me. This is on me...”_  
_”Sam?”_  
_”This is on me. This is on me. This is on me...”_  
_”Sammy, please... could you just... for a minute...”_ Dean's asking.  
_”This is on me. This is on me. This is on me...”_  
_”Sam...”_ Dean's pleading.  
_”This is on me. This is on me. This is on me...”_  
_”Shut. Up.”_ Dean feels his patience slipping, his anger rising.  
_”This is on me. This is on me. This is on me...”_  
_”I said SHUT UP!”_ Dean turns around and clutches his finger around Sam's throat, squeezing. Sam's making a few choking noises, fighting for air, but nothing else. His hands don't come up, he's not trying to wiggle himself free. Sam just lets this happen. What does this say about his state of mind? About the loss of control? Dean keeps squeezing harder, furious about everything, lets his desperation take over until Sam's head drop forward. His little brother is unconscious. 

Shocked, he checks for signs of breathing. Sam's alive. But Dean feels immediately guilty, tears start to fall. Overwhelmed by the whole situation. _”How am I supposed to handle this? What am I supposed to do, Sammy? You're the smart one, you got to tell me, Sam, please...”_

Dean never had the feeling that the world treating them in a fair way. They had some good moments, which helped to keep them going. 

Dean remembers the warm late summer of 1982, when he was sitting inside, all his toy cars lined up for a race. Dad bought him one on every occasion. Sam was lying nearby on a thick blanket, Mary was doing some chores.  
_”I had so many cars and you only had that little baby-chewy-thing, so I gave you one of my cars. You grabbed it with your tiny fingers and shoved it right into your mouth, drooling all over it. You were squeaking and I thought you liked the car, but when Mom saw it... She loved that I was sharing my stuff with you, praised me as a caring big brother, but she took the car, wiped it off and handed it to me, explaining you're not old enough yet.”_ Another day was breaking outside while Dean talks to himself.

_”I never really knew how to take care of you... Never really knew what's right, what's appropriate.”_  
_”How were you supposed to...?_ Comes a rough, low voice from the back.  
_”Sam...? You okay?_  
_”I'm note sure...”_  
_”Here, you need to drink something.”_

Dean gives Sam an update about the recent events, about the amount of supplies in the trunk, about the hut and everything but his little meltdown in the night. 

They decided to try another hut, another two-day-drive down south, which is a bit more tricky. Most people moved south during the apocalypse, because the climate is warmer down there, winters are less cold and the chances to survive in a tent were much better. Sam puts a cap on his head, hiding his face a little more in case they pass by anyone.  
Dean stopped on the roadside when Sam started screaming again, waiting those long minutes to pass. When they stopped to eat something, Sam started choking again, reminding Dean how he cut his air off not even 24 hours ago. Dean lost his appetite and Sam was unconscious, so he extinguished the fire and took the can with him again. 

If it wasn't for the other one, both would give up instantly. Too exhausted to go on, no place to stay, no hope for the future. They spent days in their Impala before, but there was always somewhere to go. A game, a concert, an event or, of course, a case.  
But this day by day living into the uncertain is dreadful. They neither sleep or eat properly and Dean is beyond impressed that Sam somehow made it until here. 

The warm sun shines down on them as they take a break by a river to wash their faces and hands. They eat up the can that Dean opened hours earlier and dip their feet in the river a few minutes before they continue their trip. The clear water was a bliss between their toes. They didn't take of their shoes for days, but everyone's used to odd body odours in these times. 

Further down the road were three cars parked the roadside. A woman waves at them and Dean stops the car. 

She approaches the car but keeps a yard distance.  
_”Sam, keep your cap down. Don't say anything, okay?”_  
Dean opens the window and the lady greets them friendly. Like the majority of survivors, her body shows traces of the past years: scars on her arms, eyes that look much older than they probably are.  
_”Sir, sorry for approaching you like this, but the devil's dead and the apocalypse is over!”_  
_”Yeah, I heard about that!”_ Dean smiles back politely.  
_”So, maybe you'd like to join our little village we are going to revive nearby.”_  
_”Oh, that's great, but at the moment, we're heading somewhere else, trying to catch up with someone.”_  
_”Oh, no worries, but if you look for a place to settle, the place is Blue Ridge in Alabama. Here are the coordinates. “_  
She hands him a small paper with numbers on it.  
_”Our camp and two others are going to meet. Most houses are doing fine down there and together, we'll fix the rest.”_ She smiles cheerfully and for a second, Dean feels the urge to hit on her.  
_”Okay, great. We definitely keep that in mind. Thanks, dear.”_ Dean winks and drives off. 

_”Yeah, when people start to settle, we can pick us a house too, what do you think?”_  
_”This is on me. This is on me. This is on me.”_ Something triggered. Sam mumbles, eyes completely vacant again.

### 

At some point in the early morning hours, Sam stops. Probably due to exhaustion. Dean parks the car on a dirt road down a forest and sleeps until the sun shines too bright. 

Both would love to sleep in a bed again, but Dean doesn't dare to settle yet. When Sam starts screaming in some residential area, he has to fear for his life. He steps out of the car to stretch himself and walks a few step away to piss behind a tree. Walking back to the car, he can hear a knocking noise and realises a little too late that Sam's smashing his head against the window with full force, red drops of blood smearing between glass and hair. 

Dean tears the door open and catches his little brother who throws himself with full force back.  
_”Shhh, Sam, it's okay, calm down.”_ He tries to wiggle himself free, away from Dean but he holds him tight. _”It's okay, Sam, please, listen, it's okay. I'm here, we are...”_  
Dean becomes quiet, holding Sam tighter to his chest, one hand in his wet hair.

_”Just let me die... why won't you let me die...”_ Sam whispers, voice broken. Dean looks at his face. Sam's eyes are empty and doesn't react to Dean's face. Sam stops moving, but keeps whispering: _”Let me die... please...”_ Dean's grip around Sam's body intensifies. He pulls him out of the car and they sit on the ground. Sam's quiet again and Dean strokes his hair with an absent mind. 

Sam wakes up and Dean puts a bandage around his head. They don't talk about it, just get back in the car. Their destination is not too far away anymore. 

It took them just another two hours to the path up the hut, but their hopes where soon crashed when they see a car parked in front of it. A tall man was stepping out, looking at Dean who immediately went into reverse, leaving another hut behind.  
_”We're running out of huts.”_ Dean stated, angry about another bust.  
_”We'll find something.”_  
_”Yeah, eventually, but we are running out of options.”_  
_”Most houses are still intact, why not picking one, hiding the car in a garage.”_  
_”Because people are still ransacking houses, they might take whatever we got left.”_  
_”And the village the lady talked about?”_  
_”Seriously Sam? You know exactly why we can't.”_  
_”Then drop me and start a new life.”_

Dean hits the breaks, turning around shocked.  
_”You are fucking kidding me, right!?”_  
_”Dean, I'm just a burden beyond repair...”_  
_”I don't care. I'm not going to waste you! I didn't nurse you back to strength to let you rot somewhere.”_  
_”Sorry, I didn't want to upset you. I'm so very grateful... Just to live again, to feel... I'm just so very tired...”_  
Dean understands. He's exhausted to the core of his bones as well.  
_”I know, Sammy. I know. Me too. But you and me, back on the road... How many nights did I dream that you and me were driving across the country... We both had to fight so hard to get here. We will find a little place for us. We deserve that, don't you think?”_

Sam couldn't deny that. He doubts that he deserves it much as Dean, but they fought so hard to make it until here and now. So why not carry on a little longer?

Another empty village. Broken windows, garbage and junk all over the streets. Sam's eyes grow wide as he spots a book shop.  
_”Well, if you find anything readable, take it.”_ Dean grins and hangs a little cotton bag on Sam's crutch. There's a photo book with nudes that Dean enjoys - _Women used to be so hot!_ \- while Sam picks a book here and there until his bag is full. They drop it behind the front seats of the Impala and drive slowly through the streets. The pharmacy is empty, but they find more pasta and baked beans in an apartment. They take turns checking houses. While one is going inside, the other one stays beside the car, in case anyone else drives by.

_”Dean?! I need your help!”_ Sam found several bottles of whiskey in a drawer of an empty house and Dean happily adds them to their supply collection.  
_”Oh, this is going to be a good night, Sammy! Nudes and booze! I feel like 21 again!”_  
_”You are happy about nudes and booze since you are 15!”_ Sam adds with a laugh.  
_”Oh, come on, you know what I mean!_  
Whistling some Led Zeppelin tune, Dean sorts all their findings in their trunk, squeezing the bottles between blanket and clothes to keep them save, while Sam tries to find some more useful stuff. 

When Dean hears the sound of glass crashing, he's immediately on high alert.  
_”Sam?! You okay?!”_  
Not receiving an answer, Dean leaves everything and runs inside, listening for Sam.  
_”Sam!? SAM?!”_  
_”NO! STOP, PLEASE! STOP! NO NO NO NO! DON'T! PLEASE DON'T!_ Sam's voice was hysteric and crying, soaked in desperation and pain. Dean follows his voice until he arrives.

**Blood.**

That's the first thing he sees. Blood on Sam's shirt, his hands, on the floor, dark crimson red. Sam's sitting on the colourful carpet of children's room. Dean's immediately by his side.  
_”What happened? Sam, tell me! SAM!”_  
_”NO! DON'T, PLEASE, NOT THEM...”_ Dean has no idea what he was talking about, but the fingers of his left hand are clutched against a big shard of a mirror, who's edge is stuck in Sam's abdomen. 

Dean feels sick realising what happened. There are toys all around this room, photos of a little girl and her parents on the wall. AMELIE was written in bright letters above her bed. 

The horror of the children bleeding out in front of their parents eyes. The sound of their small bones breaking before he ripped their heads off. He stomped on their faces because he couldn't stand the innocent glow in their eyes. The way he ravaged in nurseries. Sam drove the shard deeper into his skin, not knowing it's too late to stop the devil.

_”SAM! FOR FUCK'S SAKE! STOP!”_ Fighting his little brother's strength to pull the piece of mirror out of his body, until he slaps his face. 

Sam groans in pain, looking at Dean with sad, broken eyes, allowing him to pull the long shard out of his body. More blood streams out, his face turns pale.  
_”Dean, I'm...”_ Sam tries to say before blood bubbles out of his mouth.  
_”No, no no no no no... Sam, why...”_ Dean cries, pushing his tissue against the wound, but the blood flows through his fingers.  
_”It's okay, it's fine.”_ His voice calm and weak.  
_”NO! NO, IT'S NOT! We're not supposed to end like this!”_ Dean suddenly tries to lie Sam down: _”I'll find something. I'll patch you up. This is not ending here!”_ But Sam holds onto his brother's shirt.  
_”Dean...”_ Sam whispers, spitting more blood before he smiles the warmest smile, eyes soft and kind, summarising his whole gratitude in one moment. Dean holds Sam's hand and is about to say something when he watches his brother's eyes closing, the smile slipping away, the body going limp.

The hand he's holding is still warm and soft. 

Dean's whole body goes numb.

He's lies himself beside him, clinging unto Sam. Cursing the world, their fate, whatever is to blame for this. This is not fair. He fought for years just and all he gets are a few meagre weeks with his brother? 

It's getting dark. Sam's body gets cold.  
_”Sam...? Would you mind if I join you? Would you forgive me if I join you...? I know you didn't choose this, but... it's so cold down here... can I give in now?”_

But there's only silence. Thick heavy silence. No one else breathing.

Picking another shard in the dark, Dean's cutting his skin wide open, feeling the warm blood flowing over his skin to the ground. With the last strength he got, he holds unto his brother, ensuring he's with him till the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here it is. The dark, cold ending of this road trip. Like I said in the beginning, I've been reading some great post-apocalypse stories, but I was missing one with a sad ending. (There are for sure some, I just haven't found them yet.)
> 
> To each and everyone of you who read this story: I am so very GRATEFUL that you gave me your time. *big hugs* ♥  
> THANK YOU! ♥
> 
> If you got another spare minute, I'd appreciate a comment. :)


End file.
